


Doe, A Deer, A Female Deer

by a_c0llecti0n_0f_n0nsense



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Almost this entire fic was written in one night, Because who doesn't want to see Lily and James with kids???, Mostly self-indulgent fluff, Smut will probably come later, Sound of Music AU, Which is even weirder than it sounds, and decided i was never sleeping again, because I found and spider in my bed, because I have no self control
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-10 16:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15295746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_c0llecti0n_0f_n0nsense/pseuds/a_c0llecti0n_0f_n0nsense
Summary: Lily Evans somehow finds herself playing mother to seven orphan children, products of the wizarding war waging around them. After getting roped into helping the Order, she finds that she needs a nanny to help look after her merry band of hooligans. Who did Aunt Minnie suggest but one James Potter?Sound of Music AU, kind of.





	1. How Do You Solve A Problem Like James Potter?

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I can't believe I started another multichapter fic while I'm still in the middle of the colossal Castle on the Hill. But fear not, this one will only be around five chapters! It also has very little angst (who am I, Hedwig?) and is filled with self-indulgent fluff and hopefully adorable fun! The first chapter is mostly introducing the complicated setting I created because I can never keep it simple, expect musical numbers, children being adorable but also evil, identity shenanigans, and maybe even some smut (!!!) in the future. Shout out to the Castle Crew for forever being my number ones. Follow me on tumblr at a-collection-of-nonsense!

1.

 

“C’mon, Professor, don’t do this to me,” James Potter said implored the imposing witch seated in front of him, “Don’t bench me, I’m _begging_. It was one mistake, and I swear on Merlin’s left nut that it’ll never happen again.”

 

James winced as soon as the words had left his mouth, and unfortunately his less than gracious language had not gone unnoticed, if the disapproving look in Professor McGonnagal’s eyes were any indication. He was standing in the Headmaster’s office, emphasis on _standing_ as he hadn’t even been invited to sit down his former professor was so pissed. Usually it was Professor Dumbledore who sat behind this desk, was the one giving James that disappointed look the several dozens times he had been called into his office for various acts of mischief and shenanigans during his never-dull time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

 

However, it had been nearly six years since he had graduated from the school, and he was not in the office to receive a detention for setting off dungbombs or putting itching powder in all the Slytherin’s Quidditch uniforms. Now he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a rebel group of witches and wizards fighting against the Lord Voldemort and his party of blood purist Death Eaters; sitting behind the Headmaster’s desk was Minerva McGonnagal, the head of missions operations within the Order. And James was about to receive a very thorough telling off.

 

“Mister Potter, I’m sorry, but your performance since you have joined the Order has been entirely erratic,” Professor McGonnagal began, holding up a hand to cut him off when he began to protest, “No one doubts your passion for the cause, or your loyalty. However, you don’t seem to have any _focus_. You disobey orders from your captains when on missions, you throw yourself into danger without a second thought, often endangering the rest of your team in the process. And you just got into a fistfight at a bar with a Death Eater, ruining a three month long undercover operation. You need to take some time to cool your heels, spend some time thinking about what you truly wish to accomplish as a member of the Order. And,” she added, looking at him over her glasses, “You will learn that there is more than one way to serve the Order, more to it than just playing the hero.”

 

James was feeling properly ashamed by the time she had finished, the back of his neck heating up as he ran his hand through his hair in equal parts frustration and embarrassment. Yes, he’d fucked up big time, there was no use denying that. He had always had a quick temper, and that paired with little to no impulse control spelled trouble. So, when he had overheard at the bar he was working undercover at two known Death Eaters describing in excruciating detail what they had done to a Muggleborn witch they had caught trying to flee the country well…Let’s just say he hadn’t followed protocol.

 

He knew he needed to lay low for a little while, that was obvious; the Death Eaters were going to be out for blood, especially since his Polyjuice Potion had begun to wear off halfway through the fight and had gotten a pretty decent look at his face. And yes, he deserved to be punished, as much as he hated the idea of sitting on the sidelines while the rest of his friends were off fighting.

 

James let out a great sigh of defeat. “How long will I be on desk duty, then?” he asked his former professor resignedly.

 

Professor McGonnagal pressed her lips into a thin line. “You will not be on desk duty, Mr. Potter,” she began slowly.

 

“Am I not going to be punished, then?” James asked hopefully, even as a sense of dread crept into his chest.

 

“I told you, Potter, this is not a punishment,” McGonnagal sighed, “But I am still withholding you from field work until further notice. No, we have another, um, _position_ that has become available.” The sense of dread grew as the professor hesitated; she sounded like she was trying to break the death of his puppy to him.

 

“What kind of position, Professor?” James asked, even though he was almost positive by this point that he didn’t want to know what was coming.

 

“It is a discrete position at the household of Mademoiselle Biche,” she began, still using that same cautious, dead-puppy tone, “She is a French witch from a prominent family, a widow residing in the Scottish Highlands in her late husband’s ancestral home. She has been a long-time ally of the Order, so when she asked Professor Dumbledore and I for suggestions for someone to tutor for her seven children, as well as serve as a guard to protect her family from potential threats from the war, the Headmaster and I knew we could not turn her down.”

 

There was a lot to unpack from that exchange, but one detail (that he definitely knew McGonnagal had tried to sneak in) had snagged his attention.

 

“ _Seven children_?” James demanded, disbelieving, “You want me to be some kind of babysitter for _seven children?_ Merlin, talk about a demotion.”

 

“Tutor, Potter, and guard, not babysit,” McGonnagal corrected him sternly, “Due to, erm, various circumstances the children have not had a steady nor conventional magical education.”

 

“Why not just send the kids here?” James demanded, getting the feeling that she was trying to hide something.

 

“Only three of the children are over the age of eleven,” she replied, “And as I said before, there are various circumstances surrounding the reason why they could not pursue a conventional education. Moreover, the Mademoiselle is a very private person; she will make the decision as to how much about these circumstances she will share with you. If you take the position, that is.”

 

“I have a choice?” James’s heart soared.

 

“You always have a choice, Mister Potter,” Professor McGonnagal said, this time with a slight upturn on one side of her lips, “I am just not sure you want to hear what your other option is.”

 

* * *

 

James hadn’t wanted to hear what the other option was, as he was certain it was something along the lines of forced retirement from the Order, and that would _never_ be an option for him, not while he still had breath left in his body.

 

Which was how he found himself standing in front of a slightly decrepit but still overwhelmingly grand estate in the Scottish Highlands, wool travel cloak wrapped around his favorite pair of bottle green robes to ward off the brutal chill; Merlin, he had forgotten how brutal the winters were in Scotland. He dragged his trunk up the last few steps to the mansion, poising himself to knock on the imposing oak door; however, the second his fist hit the wood, he was sent flying back all the way down the flight of stairs he had just climbed.

 

“What the hell-” James groaned, rubbing at the knot rapidly forming on the back of his head, even though he knew the answer to his question. _That_ was the single fucking strongest warding spell he had ever encountered; hell, he was lucky he hadn’t been blown halfway to Liverpool. He was stuck between this feeling of awe at whoever had managed to build such a spell, and feeling fucking _pissed_ because weren’t they supposed to be expecting him? McGonnagal had given him a date and time to show up Ackergill Tower; the least they could do was open the goddamn door.

 

 _Seven kids_. For about the hundredth time since he had left Hogwarts three days ago, the phrase that had become a kind of curse in his mind rang through his thoughts. Fucking hell, what was he even doing here? He was an only child born to elderly parents, a miracle baby, and he hadn’t been around any kids for anything more than stuffy family functions until he went to Hogwarts at age eleven. He was completely out of his depth here.

 

James was half ready to take the wards as a sign that this was _not_ the place for him to be and simply take off when the grand entry doors opened with a loud creak. An ancient house elf with large tufts of grey hair sticking out of his floppy ears and wrapped like a mummy in a hunter green tartan stood in the doorway, looking at him sprawled on the ground disapprovingly.

 

“What are you doing down there?” the house elf demanded impatiently in a thick Scottish brogue, “Potter, isn’t it? We’ve been expecting you all day, and the Mademoiselle does _not_ like to be kept waiting. Hurry up, then, what were you doing on the ground anyways?”

 

All of the words tumbled out of the old elf’s mouth so disdainfully and at such a speed that James was shocked into speechlessness. Well that, and the building outrage at _them_ being angry at _him_ for being late when he knew very well that he had arrived right on time, and that _they_ were the ones who hadn’t prepared for his arrival enough to even take down their damn wards.

 

And now the old elf was looking at all the dust covering his robes with disapproval, as if he was going to lecture him for tracking dust inside. James bit his tongue, though, knowing that he just had to survive this position for three months and then he would be back in the field. _He could do this_.

 

He dusted himself off, making his way back up those blasted steps again, and dragged his trunk behind him past the doorway of the old manor.

 

* * *

 

“Now, how do I look, my darlings?” Lily asked, twirling around in her stuffy printed gown to face the seven children assembled on her bed. She spread her arms wide, striking a few poses as if she was a model in those fashion magazines that Penelope liked to read, causing them to giggle, “Will it do?”

 

“Perfectly awful, _maman_ ,” Lyall grinned, mischief glinting in his baby blue eyes.

 

“Like exactly the sort of person who deserves frog spawn in their soup,” Tonks agreed, nodding approvingly.

 

“The dress is a great finishing touch,” Eri added with that crooked grin, “Where in the world did you find something so hideous?”

 

Lily smirked at all of them. “I found it in the luggage that Madam Danford left behind when she ran from the house screaming,” she admitted to them in a whisper like she was telling them a terrible secret, and all seven of them burst out laughing.

 

And Lily felt her heart swell. Merlin, she loved each and every one of them so much some days it felt like she couldn’t breathe. True, she hadn’t carried them around in her belly for nine months, but that didn’t make this hodgepodge collection of kids any less _hers_.

 

Eri had been the first of her brood. It was right after she had returned to her beloved homeland of England after completing her magical education at Beauxbatons, where she had deferred to for her magical education in order to be near her mother in France. Unfortunately she was not able to stay in England for long, as jobs were scarce and it was more than a little difficult to get ahead in the market in the current political climate, what with her being a Muggleborn and all. So she had packed up and headed north, taking a low-paying internship with a potion master in Glasgow. She was out in the countryside that afternoon, hunting for a very particular strain of mushroom when she heard the cries.

 

He couldn’t have been more than six, that little boy with dark hair and darker eyes, bruises covering one side of his face and his little voice screaming as a pair of kelpies in their human from crept from a marsh, cracked seaweed-green hands clutching at his legs as they tried to pull him into the deep.

 

Oh, had Lily been _furious_. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing; since when did kelpies prey on innocent Muggles? And children, of all things, too. As much as human lore liked to vilify them, all of the kelpies that Lily had met on her travels while in school had been perfectly polite unless you were outwardly aggressive towards them. This was the height of rudeness, and Lily just could not abide.

 

“Oi!” Lily called to the pair, stomping over to the bog and glaring down at them, “Let go of that boy _this instant_. I _know_ your mothers raised you better than this!”

 

The kelpies froze, grey lips opening in shock at being addressed in such a way. They shared an alarmed glance before starting to babble in _Mermish_ of all things. Lily just snorted at their obvious ploy; she had taken Mermish as her language course in school and could understand every word. “ _Don’t pull that ‘I don’t speak English’ wormshit with me,_ ” Lily hissed at them, smirking when their acid-green eyes glowed in alarm, “ _Yeah, that’s right, I can understand you. Now let that boy go. I don’t want to pull out my wand on you but I will if I have to._ ”

 

“ _But he comes from one of those Dark wizard families,_ ” the younger kelpie had tried to argue with her, cracked teeth bared in his sneer, “ _They are hunting us, and the merpeople too. We are only protecting our clan._ ”

 

“ _Wormshit_ ,” Lily repeated, unimpressed even as she grew more curious about this boy who was apparently a wizard of all things (just her luck), “ _That little boy doesn’t even own a wand yet; are you so pathetic that such a puny thing could take you down?_ ” The kelpies finally began to look ashamed. “ _That’s right,_ ” Lily finished, “ _Pick on someone your own size, dolphin dicks._ ”

 

With that they finally released the boy, and he scrambled back from the bog while they disappeared into its depths. “Come here love,” Lily gestured to the little boys, going to her knees so that they were at eye level and she was as unthreatening as possible, “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you, and I won’t let anything else hurt you either.”

 

He didn’t move an inch though, just looking at her with those eyes so dark the iris bled right into the pupil; they were as wide as saucers as they regarded her distrustfully. “How did you talk to them?” he asked, suspicion lacing his voice and he leaned away from her, angling himself so that his arms protected his head. _Like a kicked puppy._ And it fucking broke her heart; what had happened to this kid to make him so fearful, so cynical? Merlin, what the hell was he doing out here?

 

“I can speak Mermish,” Lily admitted, speaking softly and evenly so as not to spook him, “I’m a witch, magical, just like you.” He gave her a guilty look, and her stomach dropped. _Shit, was he a Muggle? Ugh, she hated performing Memory charms_. “Right?” she asked again.

 

“I’m not a wizard,” he admitted, looking like he was about to cry, “That’s why my parents made me leave. I wasn’t magical enough for them, they told me I was not good enough to be a Lestrange. A-a disgrace.” He was crying for real now, sobs choking his chest while Lily felt herself struggling to breathe.

 

“They kicked you out?” Lily asked, voice breaking to reflect her crumbling heart. And the way he looked at her, _fuck_ , like he expected her to leave too now that his big secret was out. She crawled slowly towards the crying boy, wrapping him in her arms and settling him into her lap as she stroked his matted hair, even as he flinched at her touch. “Did you know,” she said softly, “That neither of my parents were magical?” His head snapped up at that, looking at her intently. “Yes,” she continued, “Not a drop of magic in either of them. But you know what? I never loved them any less. And both of them, they were the greatest people I ever met.” She wiped away the tears from his dirty, bruised cheeks. “Magic doesn’t mean anything if you’re not a good person. And you can be a great, _amazing_ person without ever casting a single spell.” He sniffled and gave her a tiny nod like he didn’t quite believe it but didn’t want to be rude by arguing with her, and it made her lips curl into a tiny grin.

 

“What’s your name love?” she asked him as she continued to rock him in her arms.

 

“Eridanus,” he sniffled, and she noticed how he purposely left off his last name.

 

“What a serious name for such a small boy,” she had teased him gently, “Why don’t we call you Eri, little one? A little easier, don’t you think?”

 

Finally, finally, he had looked up at her with the smallest of smiles.

 

“Come on then,” she said, lifting him up and settling him on her hip as she made her way out of the marshland, mushrooms all but forgotten,

 

“Where are we going?” he asked, still sniffling into her shoulder.

 

“We’re going home,” Lily had replied, her mind made up.

 

And that was how Lily Evans had become a mom at eighteen years old.

 

She had gotten in touch with Minerva McGonnagal, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts who had first told her a witch before Lily had decided to go to Beauxbations to be with her mom after her dad passed away. The professor had been Lily’s greatest supporter and confidant as she figured out how to shield this boy who was considered dead by his family in the magical community. She had even sent Lily money a couple of times when she had been in between jobs; she tried to move around often, doing her best not to settle too long in case word about Eri got out somehow. Minerva had told Lily in no uncertain words that the Lestranges would not hesitate to finish the job if they learned their squib son had survived. Lily did her very best to make a home for little Eri, even as she scraped together sickles and pounds to put food on the table. Somehow, though, despite it all they soon formed quite the cozy family of two.

 

A year later she had found Penelope Gardener, five-year-old daughter of a Muggleborn couple, slaughtered by Death Eaters in the same shitty neighborhood in Dover that Lily had been hiding out in at the time. Lily had found the little girl crouched in her garden of weeds the next morning; her parents had apparently told her to run as soon as the men with wands showed up, to find a place to hide and _stay there_. Search as she might, Lily could not find any living relatives for poor little Penelope; there was no one else to take the little girl in, so suddenly Lily found herself a mother of two.

 

She was working two jobs, herbalist by day and waitress by night, when she got the letter from Aunt Minnie, as her two little ones called the professor. The McKinnons, _Merlin the entire goddamn family_ , had been killed by Lord Voldemort and his followers. That is, all of them except the two four-year-old twins, Lyall and Louisa, who had been stunned by their parents before the Death Eaters found them in their bedroom upstairs; since every thought they were already dead, the vile wizards had not touched them. Lily hadn’t even blinked before she told Minerva yes; _of course_ she would take in those little loves who no one could know had survived. She could survive on soup and canned beans, and she would learn to sew the kids their own clothes; she could do this, she could make this work.

 

She had still cried from relief when Minerva told her the twins inherited the entire McKinnon fortune, and that Lily would get a monthly allowance, discretely administered, to help take care of the twins.

 

Susan Bones had shown up on her doorstep with Aunt Minnie the following year, another orphan of war who was on the run from those who wanted to end her entire family line. By then Lily couldn’t remember what her life had been like before those kids had taken up every waking moment of her life, and even most of her dreams at night. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

It was Oliver’s grandmother who left her Ackergill Tower. His parents, the Woods, had died right after he turned two during a targeted attack against halfblood families, and the poor dear had been left to live with his grandmother in the deteriorating old castle in the Highlands. The grand lady was quite old and sickly, though, and she was constantly haunted by the thought Oliver didn’t have any more living family to go to once she passed, which was unfortunately going to be sooner rather than later. Mrs. Wood contacted her childhood friend, Albus Dumbledore, and learned from him about Lily’s efforts to protect and take care of the children who had been abandoned or left alone because of the war. She had offered her ancestral home to Lily and her children in exchange for taking care of Oliver when she was gone, and Lily had gratefully accepted.

 

That had been three years ago. It felt like it had all passed in the blink of an eye.

 

Some days she regretted that choice, to take the Tower. Of course she loved that the children finally had a stable place to call home, and it was such a grand and beautiful estate, even if a bit worn from the passing of time; like something out of the fairytales that Lily read as a child. But, as Lily’s mother had always told her, there was never a free lunch. Merlin, Lily always knew she should have paid more attention to her mother. Because as soon as the Tower had officially passed into Lily’s hands, the demands started coming through.

 

Lily learned during a rather tense meeting with Aunt Minnie and Professor Dumbledore about the Order of the Phoenix, and although she was ecstatic that _someone_ was out there fighting those bastards who had taken her kids’ families away, the grim look of Minerva’s face made her instantly wary of where the conversation was going. Apparently the Order had a desperate need for a potions mistress, so desperate that they were willing to fucking hold her kids’ new home over her head. The Order made the transfer of the Tower into Lily’s hands possible, and promised to provide them with enough cash to keep all six (count ‘em, six) kids comfortably fed and clothed. All they asked was that Lily brew mass stores of potions for their organization, and to spend one week every two months traveling the country to different Order bases and Safe Houses to deliver the supplies and instruct members on the more advanced potion-making needed for war times.

 

Yeah, _right_. Lily had tried to walk out of the office right then.

 

She was fine with brewing the potions, more than happy to give back in that way actually; Lily knew she had an almost freakish talent for brewing, and Minerva had already helped her so much that she was desperate to give something in return. But it was leaving the kids for a whole week and the exposure to the war that made her want to bring the meeting to a full stop. She hadn’t left any of her kids alone for a whole day since she first found Eri in that marsh (they had abandonment issues that centuries of therapy wouldn’t solve), and exposing herself to the people in the Order could bring the war knocking on her door even more than it already was. Lily would rather have all seven of them living in a one-room apartment and eating Ramen every night than put a single one of her kids in danger.

 

It was Minerva who had convinced Lily to stay, had told her they would come up with a plan, some compromise to make sure the kids stayed safe. They needed her, Minerva told her, and Lily knew that her greatest supporter would never purposely put her kids in danger.

 

So they had come up with The Ruse.

 

It was decided that when she wore the hat of traveling Potions Mistress, Lily would go in disguise as a middle-aged brunette and identify herself as McGonnagal’s Scottish niece, Mildred Pierce (Lily had picked the name, knowing none of the snobby British wizards would recognize the Muggle reference). They would hire someone, a nanny of sorts, to watch after the kids while Lily was gone, to guard them in her absence, keep their education going, and generally make sure they didn’t accidentally kill themselves or (not so accidentally) each other. Having the sort-of nanny would also help when Lily was at home brewing all those potions, would continue to serve as a tutor and guardian to the kids while she spent the majority of her day locked in her study.

 

But Lily grew into a murderous Mama Bear at the thought of having some stranger around her kids. Every single one of them had some sort of bounty on them, and it would be far too easy for word to get out about the crazy redhead who kept half a dozen refugee kids in a castle in Scotland. So, they came up with the second half of The Ruse. When she was at home at the Tower with the nanny assigned to them (which Minerva promised she would _personally_ pick out and vet), Lily would take Polyjuice Potion to disguise herself as a dignified elderly woman (the hair donated from one of her great-aunts in France) and would take up the mantle of the fictional Mademoiselle Letitia Biche, a French serial widow with six unruly children who were being raised in Scotland to meet her latest husband’s dying wishes, but would be homeschooled because she refused to send them to her old Beauxbatons rival of Hogwarts.

 

Altogether, the whole thing felt a bit overcomplicated, but after watching the kids’ faces light up when they first caught sight of the Tower, the way they each shrieked as they claimed their _own_ bedroom and raced around the large expanse of lush grounds, Lily knew she would do anything to keep this place.

 

In the end, though, Lily rarely ended up needing to wear her disguise at home. In the last three years they had hosted twelve nannies, and only one had lasted more than three months.

 

Yes, she was raising a pack of hooligans. And bloody damned proud of it.

 

It was then that Lily heard a loud explosion, followed by a low groan, that broke her out of her reverie.

 

“I think the new nanny has arrived, _maman_ ,” little Louisa observed innocently ( _and if Lily’s heart didn’t just about fucking explode every time one of them called her maman)_.

 

“Lily, you _have_ to teach me those wards,” Tonks begged. The fifteen-year-old spitfire hadn’t found her way into Lily’s care until two years ago, and their relationship had always been much more of that of sisters; she never called her _maman_. But damn if Lily didn’t think she was the coolest punk-ass kid she had ever met.

 

“Someday,” Lily brushed her off (because Tonks was the greatest troublemaker of them all), checking one last time that her white hair was flawlessly arranged and practicing her most disapproving looks in the mirror again; the beak of a nose from her great aunt made those looks especially terrifying. “Okay, kiddos, Tinker should be making his way to the door at any moment. You know what that means,” she grinned at them expectantly.

 

“ _PLACES!_ ” they all shouted excitedly, racing out of the room. Yes, it was showtime. And the first day was always, _always_ the most fun.

 

Lily gave herself one more mischievous smile in the mirror and sat on her bed to wait.

 

* * *

 

A clacking of heels on the wooden steps climbing the eastern wall of the great entry hall had James swinging his head around in order to finally get a view of the cow he who had hired him. Yes, he was already feeling quite irritated towards his employer as she had left him waiting in the hall for _thirty fucking minutes_.

 

Then he saw the woman who owned his ass for the next three months, and he felt his heart plummet. Mademoiselle Biche had a large beak of a nose, the kind that indicated high aristocratic breeding, and a look of disdain to match her pedigree. Bloody hell, the look of disapproval on her face as she scanned him head to toe rivaled that of Professor McGonnagal.

 

“Potter, is it?” she said in a posh French accent, “I was expecting someone more…female.”

 

“Mademoiselle Biche,” James acknowledged with a nod, not quite sure how to respond to _that_ , “Did Professor McGonnagal not inform you of my arrival? Or of anything about me?”

 

“Oh, I’m sure Minerva wrote something about you,” the Mademoiselle said dismissively with a wave of her hand, “But I stopped paying attention to anything other than the arrival date after the first six nannies. None of you seem to last long enough to make the effort seem worth it.”

 

“How many, er, nannies have you had, exactly?” James asked with that same sense of dread building in his stomach as he had when he stood in the Headmaster’s office three days ago; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.

 

“You will be unlucky thirteenth,” the Mademoiselle replied, and James swore he saw a smirk cross her lips for just a second, but it could have been a stress mirage; he had just broken out in a cold sweat at her words. “Now, turn around please.” She said it with such authority that before James even had a moment to think he spun around in his robes like an idiot. The Mademoiselle hummed disapprovingly, saying, “You look quite ridiculous in those robes, Mister Potter. You will get rid of them at once. You will wear Muggle clothing while in this household. If you do not have any, I will have some made for you. I will only need to take your measurements. Tinker?” she called to the elderly house elf that James had forgotten was in the room, “Please order some basic fabrics. And some wool and tweed, as well, Mister Potter will need a proper overcoat for the spring chill.”

 

“Wait, what’s wrong with my clothing?” James protested, “These are my best set of casual robes, straight from Madam Malkin’s!”

 

Mademoiselle Biche ignored him, telling the house elf, “Tinker, please get the fabric to me by tonight. Yes, we need Mister Potter out of those clothes as soon as possible.”

 

( _Did James just see her blush?)_

 

“Anyways,” the Mademoiselle continued quickly, “I trust that you will be an improvement on the last nanny, Mister Potter. She only lasted two hours.” She said those last words with an almost sneer on her thin lips.

 

“Thirteen nannies? And one only stayed two hours?” James asked disbelievingly, mentally cursing McGonnagal for leaving out that particular detail, “What’s wrong with those kids of yours?”

 

Immediately the Mademoiselle’s lips dipped into a deep frown. “There is nothing wrong with the children,” she snapped, glowering at him in a way that made him want to sink into his shoes, “Only the nannies. They were completely unable to maintain discipline in this household, and without it this house cannot be run. Do you understand Potter?”

 

“Yes, Mademoiselle,” he replied, still disgruntled about the whole exchange.

 

“Before you meet the children I want to go over the rules and expectations of the household.” She began pacing back and forth in front of him in a way that reminded him of a drill sergeant. “First, bedtime is at eight PM. This curfew shall be strictly enforced; the children will remain in their bedrooms, and I expect you to stay in your wing of the Tower after that time as well.”

 

James looked at her like she was insane. He had a curfew now? Merlin, he hadn’t had a curfew since he was in school.

 

“That brings me to your rooms. The children all reside in the east wing of the estate. Your rooms, as well as the library, music room, and drawing room are in the west. You may visit any of these rooms in the evening, as long as you stay within your wing. My rooms are in the tower proper, and under no circumstances are you to _ever_ enter the tower. You may owl me if you need to reach me during the day. The owls reside in the barn on the grounds, just next to the greenhouse.” James nodded when she paused her pacing to narrow those dark, beady eyes at him. She resumed her pacing, and her lecture, “I do not want the children to dream away their days. As such you will maintain a strict schedule of their studies. Monday through Friday you are to instruct the children in the subjects of arithmetic, world history, science, and the language arts from eight AM until three PM. Each one has also chosen a foreign language to study, and although they are all fluent in French they should receive continued instruction in that as well. They may have a one hour lunch break, which the house elves Tinker and Netty will prepare.”

 

James was immediately confused by her explanation. “Arithmetic?” he asked uncertainly, “And science?”

 

Mademoiselle Biche huffed impatiently. “Pureblood?” she asked in a way that he had never heard before, like that was a _bad_ thing, “And you attended Hogwarts as well, no? They were never one for well-rounded studies, such a disappointment. If you are not familiar with math and science you will spend your own evenings studying the materials before you teach them the next day. You may find the needed materials in the library. I do not expect their studies to fall behind just because of your deficiencies.”

 

“What about magic, then?” James asked, ignoring her insults, “Are they not instructed in charms, or herbology or anything?”

 

“You may instruct Nymphadora, the eldest, in magical subjects during free hours,” Mademoiselle Biche replied, an obvious and confusing reluctance in her voice, “But none of the other children are to be exposed to magic until they are of age. This I expect to be strictly enforced.”

 

“No magic?” James asked, “But aren’t they all magical children?”

 

She stopped her pacing with a jerk. “And if they aren’t?” she asked with an arched brow, daring him to say something.

 

He honestly didn’t know how to respond to that, so he said nothing. What if they weren’t magical? The only Squib he had ever met was Filch, the old caretaker of Hogwarts, and he had been the most unpleasant man James had ever met. But he admonished himself; he knew he shouldn’t take judge an entire population based on one cantankerous man. Still, how would he act around children who had been robbed of their magical powers? He was terrified he would look down on them at pity, but how could he not when he couldn’t imagine his own life without magic in it?

 

“Furthermore,” the Mademoiselle continued her speech, “On Saturdays and Sundays they are to be instructed in the musical instrument of their choice, and should engage in an hour of physical activity each day. During unplanned hours the children may pursue their individual interests. And, most importantly, they are _never_ to leave the grounds.”

 

“I assume no magic means no Quidditch, either?” James asked in a disgruntled voice, knowing the answer to his question already.

 

“There are other sports in the world, Mister Potter,” she said sharply. “Finally, you will always make sure that the children behave with the utmost decorum. Any questions?” James simply shook his head, not even knowing where to begin with this batty old woman. “Good,” she nodded in return, “Then I shall call the children.” Instead of shouting for them, though, she pulled out a whistle from a pocket in her ghastly gown and blew on it, letting out such a piercing shriek that James had to refrain from covering his ears.

 

He heard a clattering from above, and suddenly a rush of children scrambled down the stairs. They stood in a straight line in front of him, what looked like oldest to youngest, and stood with such stiff posture, even the littlest one who couldn’t be more than five, that he wondered if they had been trained in the Auror Academy. Mademoiselle paced up and down in front of them, adjusting what looked like almost a uniform, with khaki bottoms, a white button down, and a sharp navy blazer.

 

“Children,” Mademoiselle Biche instructed, “Greet your new nanny, Mister Potter.”

 

“Um, I was told I would be more of a tutor-slash-guard,” James stuttered out, feeling his cheeks flush red as the children flashed each other smirks, “And please, call me James.”

 

“Good afternoon, Mister Potter,” the seven children recited in unison, completely ignoring his statement.

 

“Now, on my whistle state your name and age.”

 

The Mademoiselle let out one sharp shrill, and the first one in line, a young teenager with bubblegum pink hair that contrasted sharply with her well-pressed uniform, stepped forward. “Nymphadora, Mister Potter,” she stated, looking straight forward with that military seriousness, “And I’m fifteen years old.” She stepped back in line.

 

Two shrills, and the boy with familiar dark eyes stepped forward. “Eridanus, age twelve,” he said sharply, giving James a glare before stepping back.

 

Three shrills. “I’m Penelope and I’m ten years old,” a girl with sharp bangs and a calculating look in her eyes recited.

 

Four shrills, and both the fair-haired girl and the boy next in line stepped forward, saying in unison, “I’m Lousia/Lyall and they’re Lyall/Louisa and we’re eight years old.”

 

Mademoiselle Biche let out a sigh. “Lyall, you’re four shrills and a squeak, we’ve been over this,” she said exasperatedly.

 

“But why do I always have to go second?” the boy pouted, pulling puppy dog eyes.

 

“You know we go in alphabetical order since I’m not sure which one of you came out first,” the Mademoiselle said with an uncharacteristically soft smile on her face, “It’s not my fault that Lyall is spelled with a ‘y’ and not an ‘i’.” Lyall was still pouting, so she added, “And maybe someday we’ll line up by height instead of name, you know, for the aesthetic, and then you’ll be ahead of your sister.”

 

“Hey!” Louisa objected, and the Mademoiselle raised her eyes to the ceiling like she was asking for patience, and it was such a familiar look to James, one he had seen on his own mother’s face too many times to count, that he couldn’t help but snort.

 

Mademoiselle Biche suddenly seemed to remember he was there. “Ahem, yes,” she said awkwardly, before blowing on her whistle five times. The next girl in line, with two thick blond braids, stepped forward. “I’m Susan and I’m five years old, but I’ll be six soon,” she said, giving him a shy smile. James decided immediately that he liked her.

 

Finally, six sharp trills sounded off. The youngest boy, with a head full of messy brown hair, marched forward like a soldier before taking a step back.

 

There was a pause. The Mademoiselle gestured at him again.

 

“Oh!” he exclaimed, taking another step forward and back before saying, “I’m Oliver and I’m five years old too.”

 

“Well done,” Mademoislelle nodded at the boy with a smile before pinching her lips together in a straight line to face James, “Now, Mister Potter, I must return to my work. Please spend the day getting to know the children, and they will resume their usual schedule tomorrow. Dinner will be served at seven PM sharp. Do not be late.” She paused, before raising the whistle to her lips again and letting out a wobbling shrill. “Oh, and that’s your whistle,” she said, a dark glint in her eyes as if daring him to say anything.

 

Well, James had always been up for a dare. “I am afraid I do not answer to whistles, as I am not a dog,” he said smoothly before adding, “But what whistle should I use to call for you?”

 

Low snickers erupted from the children, and the Mademoiselle’s face began to heat. She shot a glare at the children and they immediately ceased, although a few of the older ones were still trying to hide their smiles. “Mister Potter,” she drawled, “Were you this much trouble in the Order?”

 

“Oh, much more, Mademoiselle,” he smirked back.

 

She huffed. “I will see you at dinner, Mister Potter,” the Mademoiselle said sharply, and with those words she swept out of the hall, leaving James with seven children who were now looking him with the most evil smiles on his face that he had ever seen.

 

James took in a deep breath, breathing in and out slowly. _He could do this_. Hell, he and his three best friends had been the biggest troublemakers Hogwarts had ever seen, a fact that Professor McGonnagal liked to remind him of on a weekly basis. There was no crap they could pull that he hadn’t already done before.

 

“Um, at ease,” James said nervously, although adopting a smile and trying to keep his voice light, steady, and confident. He knew kids were like sharks, they could smell fear. “Now that it’s just us, could you tell me your names again? I have a terrible memory.” He forced a grin at them. “And how about you tell me a little about yourselves too?”

 

The eldest of the lot stepped forward again. “I’m Nymphadora, but you should call me Tonks. And I _don’t_ need a nanny,” she said, voice absolutely _full_ of attitude. She would be one to look out for, that glint of mischief in her eyes was far too familiar. And it might have been another stress mirage, but James could have _sworn_ he saw her nose morph into a pig’s snout and back. The way the other kids were snickering at what must be a shocked look on his face, he was sure he hadn’t imagined it.

 

“Well, Tonks, I’m glad you told me that,” he grinned at her, starting to catch on a little bit to the covert glances the hellions were sharing. Fellow mischief makers these kids were, he was sure, and _that_ was something he could understand. “of Well it’s a good thing I’m not a nanny. We can just be friends then, yeah?” He felt a spark triumph at the surprise on Tonks’s face, and then the way her eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

 

The next boy stepped forward. “I’m Eridanus, but I go by Eri,” he said, never breaking off his icy glare in James’s direction, “And _I’m_ impossible.”

 

“Oh really?” James laughed at the boy; someone certainly had a chip on their shoulder, “And who told you that, Eri?”

 

“Nanny Travers,” the boy said proudly, still giving James the stink-eye, “Four nannies ago.”

 

The girl next in line stepped in forward. “I’m Louisa,” she smirked, before stepping back.

 

James nearly rolled his eyes at that cheap ploy. _Basic_. “Now, Penelope, you didn’t tell me anything about yourself,” he admonished with quirked lips.

 

Penelope immediately blushed, and the girl next to her stepped forward. “I’m Louisa, she’s Penelope,” the blonde girl smiled, “ _Maman_ says she’s an impulsive liar and you’re smart.” James gave her a wide smile, which immediately dropped at her next words, “I’m Lyall’s twin, and I think that is the ugliest outfit I ever saw.”

 

Merlin, what was it with this family and their obsession with his clothes? His best friend Marlene had assured him he looked just fine. Although, knowing Marlene, she may have just said that to fuck with him. _Shit_.

 

The next boy stepped forward, frowning theatrically at his sister. “Louisa, you shouldn’t say that,” he gasped, and James almost began to like him before he added, “They’re terrible, but Nanny Helga’s was ugliest.” James let out a defeated sigh and resisted pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m Lyall, and I’m incorrigible.”

 

“Congratulations,” James remarked with a suppressed laugh.

 

“What does incorrigible mean?” Lyall asked suddenly, “It’s what _maman_ always calls me but she won’t tell me what it means.”

 

“Erm, I _think_ it means that you want to be treated like a boy,” James replied. Lyall nodded thoughtfully, like that made all the sense in the world, and James was thankful that he was still the master of bullshitting.

 

The shy girl stepped forward, tugging on his robes to get his attention. “I’m Susan and my birthday is on Tuesday,” she said sweetly, “And I’d like a pony.”

 

He grinned at her, getting down on one knee so they were eye level. “Wouldn’t you rather like a unicorn?” he asked her.

 

Her eyes grew as big as saucers. “A unicorn?” she asked breathlessly, “But I thought those were only in the stories!”

 

James looked at her in shock. “Well of course they’re real-” he began, before a sharp cough from Tonks cut him off. Shit, he’d forgotten that for some reason talking about magic with the kids was taboo. “We’ll take about it later, love,” he whispered to little Susan.

 

The boy on the end stomped his foot, waiting for James’s attention. “Ah, and you’re Oliver right?” James said, standing up again, “And how big you are at five. Wow, you must be the man of the house!” He smiled at the way Oliver’s chest puffed up all big. “Now, I have to tell you a secret,” James told them, “I haven’t ever been a tutor, or nanny or whatever, before.”

 

The kids all shared those mischievous glances again, and James immediately regretted his words. “You mean don’t know anything about being a nanny?” Penelope said in a sugary sweet voice, taking a predatory step forward that the rest of the children mirrored, “Well the best way to start is to be sure to always tell _maman_ to mind her own business.”

 

“Never come to dinner on time,” Lyall added as they continued to close ranks on James.

 

“Never eat your soup quietly,” Louisa said, and they all let out a loud slurp that seemed almost rehearsed.

 

“Always chew with your mouth open,” Eri added over the noise. They were like a pack of wild animals around him now, bumping into him and circling him as if he were easy prey. _Shit_ , what had he gotten himself into?

 

Susan stomped her little Mary Janes on the polished floor. “Don’t you believe a word they say Mister Potter,” she said seriously.

 

“James, please,” he said, trying to maneuver himself out of the huddle, “And why’s that?

 

“Because _I_ like you,” she said resolutely. James may have heard more than one _traitor_ muttered under their breath, and he laughed nervously in response.

 

“Okay, children, break it up, give him some room to breathe,” a small, squeaky house elf suddenly piped up, pulling James by the sleeve out of the group, “Go outside for a walk, Mademoiselle’s orders. We need to give Potter here some time to settle himself. Now hurry up, out you go,” she called, shooing them out the front door before turning to James. “I’m Netty, and I help with the children and around the house,” she said, holding her hand out to shake. James had never shaken hands with a house elf before, and it felt a bit weird, but then Netty was leading him up the stairs. “I’ll show you to your rooms, and your wing of the Tower.”

 

James watched the seven children walk slowly to the door, almost like they were dreading going outside, and he suddenly felt sympathy for them well up inside. Hell, these kids were on a stricter schedule than he had been on while in the Auror Academy, and most of them were too young to even attend Hogwarts. All of them had lost their fathers, and James knew the deep heartache of losing a parent, having lost both of his two years ago to dragon pox. And their mother, Mademoiselle Biche, seemed to be a cold sort of woman, not anything like the loving mother he had grown up with. They were so isolated, almost like prisoners, and James suddenly hated it for them.

 

“Poor kids,” he muttered under his breath sadly.

 

 _That’s_ when he heard a loud pop coming from his robe pockets, and suddenly a set of Filibuster’s best burned a whole through his robes, fireworks erupted right in front of James’s face, nearly blinding him.

 

“ _Salazar’s sack!_ ” he cursed, a hand going to his chest reflexively as if to make sure his heart was still beating. As soon as his vision cleared he saw the seven children all paused on the threshold of the doorway, looking at him speculatively as if to judge his reaction.

 

“You’re very lucky!” Netty piped up with a smile directed at him, “With Nanny Helga they used one of the dragon ones. I had to give her a Calming Draught to get her to stop screaming!” The house elf laughed as if that were the funniest thing in the world.

 

 _So that’s how it’s going to be_ , James thought. Well, he just had to survive three months and then he could get the hell out of here. He made sure to stand his ground, staring down the kids as they slowly filed out of the house.

 

 _Three months, three months, three months_.

 

He could do this.


	2. Edelweiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a love letter to you wonderful readers who left me such unexpectedly nice reviews that I actually cried. I am so excited that so many fo you have already fallen in love with this quirky concept I came up with. I hope you all enjoy what I have cooked up for you! Also, looks like it will probably be close to 10 chapters of ~5-10k words each because I do not understand the concept of a short story. Love you all, happy reading!

2.

 

Lily slammed the door to her potions room in the East Tower, leaning against it as she let the Polyjuice Potion wear off. “Netty!” she shouted, and with a snap the young scrawny house elf appeared in front of her.

 

“Yes, Mistress?” she asked in a squeak, and even in her blind panic she managed to roll her eyes.

 

“I told you to call me Lily,” she reminded the elf, as she had a hundred times before. Both Tinker and Netty were rescues, like the rest of the castle’s inhabitants. Tinker had blown up at the family he had worked for, the Rosiers, after the youngest Rosier had beaten him half to death for not getting him his sweets fast enough. The boy had been only seven years old, yet capable of such thoughtless cruelty, and Tinker finally realized that he was going to die in this house if he did not get out, and not of old age. He had used Dark elf magic to possess the young Rosier into giving him a piece of clothing and, now free, the house elf never looked back. However, it was difficult for a house elf to find work, especially after pissing off such a powerful pureblood family, and Tinker refused to sell himself into slavery again. Eventually he made his way to Hogwarts and, knowing that Lily was struggling to look after all six children by herself, Minerva sent the house elf her way. He was a grumpy old fart and loved to talk back to Lily, but he had a soft spot for the children, and that was enough for her.

 

Netty was a whole different story. Her house elf parents had abandoned her at Hogwarts right after she was born before she was bound to the Parkinsons, not wanting her to be forced to work for such a vile and abusive family, wanting a brighter future for their child. The Hogwarts elves had tried to raise her as a proper house elf, but Netty proved to be an absolute disaster, helpless when it came to most household chores and hopelessly clumsy. After listening to Minerva moan over her young ward one afternoon, Lily had offered to take the house elf in, give her paying work and a home where so many disasters took place on an hourly basis that Netty would fit right in. Although Netty could not cook or clean to save her life, she had proven to be an absolute godsend when it came to the children. She was a fantastic nursemaid, and the children adored her.

 

For the most part, the two house elves were just treated as members of the family. However, a few habits from the old days had stuck with them; calling Lily ‘Mistress’ was one of them, and it drove her up the wall. Merlin, she was only twenty-four. ‘Mistress’ made her feel extra self-conscious about the early grey hairs that occasionally popped up in her fiery red mane.

 

“Now, Netty,” Lily continued slowly, trying to take deep breaths so that she didn’t explode, “Why didn’t you tell me that the new nanny was a man?”

 

“Oh, Mi-Lily, I didn’t think it was important,” Netty said simply, although her eyes grew wide as Lily sunk to the floor and groaned into her hands.

 

 _Not important?_ Jesus, Lily had almost face-planted when she saw him waiting at the base of the stairs.

 

 _James fucking Potter_.

 

Yes, she knew all about him. Her childhood best friend from her old neighborhood in Cokeworth, Mary MacDonald, had ended up being a Muggleborn witch as well. However, she had stayed behind in England as Lily was shipped off to Beauxbatons, spending her own seven years at Hogwarts. The two had stayed in touch all those years, even to this day, and Lily had heard all about the crazy events that seemed to plague the British school. Nearly all of said events seemed to be orchestrated by a troublesome group of boys that called themselves the Marauders, and at the center of them was one James Potter.

 

Yes, she had spent seven years laughing at his antics as she read Mary’s letters on the bed in her dorm, laying on her back and daydreaming about meeting this boy that she fancied herself half in love with.

 

Mary had _completely_ left out the fact that James Potter was bloody gorgeous (and Lily was already rearing to let her friend know _exactly_ what she thought of that omission). Merlin, he looked like a fucking snack, Lily had nearly felt her mouth water looking at his broad shoulders not _at all_ hidden by his cloak and his sex hair and just _damn_. It was only twelve nannies worth of rehearsals that had gotten her through that introduction.

 

She groaned again just thinking of that conversation, feeling her face heat up beneath her hands. Good god, she had told him she was going to take his _measurements_. Desperate much? Merlin, just the idea of running her hands over his broad chest and slim hips, thinking of _exactly_ where her hands would be as she measured his inseam….

 

She was utterly, _utterly_ fucked.

 

All of this only made her painfully aware of how long it had been since she’d done _that_. Lily had two boyfriends when she was in school, and had a couple of one-nights stands on the rare weekends that Minerva strong-armed her into taking some time to herself or when she was traveling for the Order. But overall there was absolutely no time for men in her life when raising seven kids on the run, and she had become well-acquainted with a little latent sexual frustration. It was fine, it really was.

 

Until it wasn’t. _James fucking Potter_.

 

Not to mention that he was _clever_ and _funny_ and just so bloody charming. Lily was sure she had blown a blood vessel holding in her laughter at that whistle joke, and those _smirks_ that he gave made her simultaneously want to punch him and kiss him.

 

 _Oh fuck_. She needed to get him out of her home as quickly as possible. She hoped the kids had something good planned for dinner.

 

* * *

 

James sprinted down the stairs, skidding across the entry hall as he hurried to the dining room. He was running fifteen minutes late to dinner after finding that his door was impossibly stuck. He had rammed his shoulder against it until he felt a bruise growing, and even given it a few kicks before finally taking out his wand only to find a complicated Sealing Charm had been applied to his doorframe. _Little fuckers_. He tried to be pissed about it, but he was amused more than anything, and pretty damn impressed at such strong spellwork coming from kids who had never received proper magical instruction. At least one of his twelve predecessors must have been worth their salt; that, or the kids were naturals.

 

Normally he wouldn’t have cared about being late for something like dinner, he was chronically running behind, but James had done some thinking in his room. And he had come to the realization that behind those mischievous and defiant looks the kids had been giving him was a vulnerability, and certainly a strong layer of defensiveness. James had gotten the feeling that there was something bigger going on here, something happening below the surface that was causing them to act so guarded.

 

And James had made up his mind. Obviously these kids had been abandoned one too many times by those chicken-shit nannies that had come before him, and he wasn’t going to let them run him off like the rest of them. No, something in his gut told him that these kids needed him. Even if he was only going to be here for three months, he was going to do this job right. Maybe even have a little bit of fun with it.

 

A boy could dream.

 

So James found himself sprinting those last few steps to the dining hall entrance, slowing to a walk at the very last second in an effort to maintain at least some of his dignity. Judging by the way all seven of the kids were smirking at his panting breaths as he walked towards the empty seat at the end of the long table, he had not achieved his goal.

 

“I apologize for my tardiness,” James said as he pulled out his chair, “I had a little bit of trouble with my door, but none of you children need to worry, the problem is all fixed now.” He tried to give them an ‘I’m not that easy to scare away’ look, but lost all control of the situation as soon as he sat down, and a loud farting noise erupted in the room.

 

A Whoopie cushion? _Really?_ James had to admit he was a little unimpressed by the cliché prank, at least until he saw the proud grin on Lyall’s face amongst all of the snickering children that told him the little devil was the mastermind. That was nice, at least, that the older kids let the younger ones take the lead sometimes. A nice confidence builder, James could respect that.

 

So he let the prank play out, the Whoopie cushion letting out air agonizingly slowly as he sat with a thoughtful look on his face, stroking his chin. After nearly a full minute of the noise, the Whoopie cushion was all farted out. “Do excuse me,” James said in an obviously overplayed earnest voice, “I must have eaten something funny this morning. I think it’s passed now, though, so no fear.” Then James looked at the spread on the table in mock horror. “Oh Merlin, I take it back. You’re serving beans, which means we’re _all_ in for a long night.”

 

A round of giggles broke out up and down the table and James shared a grin with them, which only made them laugh harder. Ah, fart jokes. The Kryptonite of children everywhere.

 

The laughter was cut off with Mademoiselle Biche clearing her throat; James had almost forgotten she was in the room. No, that was a lie, the woman had such a presence that she was impossible to ignore. The children suddenly all looked painfully guilty, but James couldn’t figure out if the Mademoiselle’s disappointed frown was due to the prank or the fact that the kids had been laughing at his joke.

 

“If you are done with this spectacle, Mister Potter, we have been quite patiently waiting to begin our supper,” she said stiffly, before gesturing towards the children for them to begin eating.

 

James waited until all of their mouths were full before he said, “I would just like to thank you all for the little gift you left me in my pocket this morning.” Two of the kids spit out their food, just the reaction he had been going for. “Yes, it was just _so_ kind of all of you to go to all of the trouble of putting on a show for me. Knowing that I must have been feeling so nervous about coming to a new place to live with people I’d never met, it just meant _so_ much to me that you tried to make me feel welcome.” He made sure to look each of them in the eyes with a bland smile on his face to let them all know _it’s on fuckers_.

 

But they all just stared right back. And then, to his horror, all but the oldest two broke out into tears. Well first they were tears, and then they were those great wails that only kids could perfect. _Jesus_ , had he gone too far?

 

Then he spotted the almost imperceptible smirk on Mademoiselle Biche’s thin lips and knew he was more than likely being played. However, the tears still made him feel like shit, despite his faint sense of awe that these kids could so flawlessly cry on cue.  

 

Over the wails of five children, Mademoiselle raised her voice to say, “I do hope, Mister Potter, that not every evening with you will be this…eventful.” She looked at him shrewdly as she raised her wine glass to her lips.

 

James stared right back until the Mademoiselle finally averted her gaze. And he grinned in triumph.

_Game fucking on._

 

* * *

 

Lily made a running jump onto the queen bed in Tonks’s room where the kids had gathered to wait for her, crushing half of them in the process amidst a flurry of giggles.

 

“Gather round my lovelies, so I can give you all a big hug,” she said, settling Oliver in her lap and pulling the others into the kind of cheesy embrace that made them groan. “Oh, suck it up,” she teased them, “These are hugs of congratulations! Stellar performance tonight, my little hellions, truly inspiring.”

 

It was a nightly tradition for them, ever since their never-ending parade of unwanted guests had taken over their lives. Right after the kids’ supposed curfew went into effect, Lily made her way to their wing of the Tower (blessedly out of disguise) to spend some quality time with her merry band of hooligans. Their favorite evening activity was shit-talking the nanny – or, in this case, _manny_.

 

“So, tell me, children o’ mine, first impressions,” she said, “Gimme gimme!”

 

( _Lily tried to put her own very poignant first impression out of her mind. Not the time, Evans, not the time.)_

 

“I get the feeling he’s not going to leave easily,” Tonks started them off, “He barely even blinked at the fireworks, and you saw how smoothly he handled the Whoopie cushion. That one made Nanny Hudson cry.” Rather than looking disappointed, though, Tonks had a broad grin on her face. “I look forward to the challenge,” she said, rubbing her hands together with a scheming look in her eyes that made Lily feel vaguely frightened, “I may have finally met my match.”

 

“Yes, he really looks like he’s going to fight us on this,” Penelope agreed in a cynical tone, “What is he, strapped for cash? There’s got to be easier ways for a bloke like that to make money. He’s pretty handsome isn’t he, plenty of women would be into that.”

 

Lily choked on her own spit. Merlin, Penelope was a precocious little shit sometimes, and although Lily got it, she’d had more than a hard knock life, she was still terrified that the girl would become a serial killer someday. Smacking her in the arm, Lily cried, “Penelope! Not in front of the children!”

 

Penelope rolled her eyes. “I was only saying he’s easy on the eyes, plenty of people would hire him, yeah?”

 

“Merlin, Penny, ten years olds are _not_ supposed to notice those kinds of things,” Lily huffed; Penelope just shrugged.

 

“Why do we have a guy nanny this time, anyways?” Eri interjected, his arms crossed as he glowered at Tonks’s rainbow-colored comforter.

 

“Aww, little Eri’s jealous,” Tonks teased, pinching his cheek; he punched her in the shoulder in retaliation, “Are you mad you’re not the man of the house anymore?”

 

“Shut up,” he growled back, “I’m just saying it’s kind of weird, isn’t it? What kind of bloke wants to spend all day around a bunch of kids?”

 

Lily could read between the lines there, easy. Eri was her little man, and he was ferociously protective of her, especially around men. She suspected that his father had hit his mother, the way he looked at any man over the age of sixteen with distrust in his eyes, the way he balled his fists and stepped in front of her when they were out in public and some guy looked at Lily for a second too long. It broke her heart every time, even as it swelled from the sheer force of how much Eri must love her to be willing to take the punch he seemed to always be waiting to fall.

 

Eri was probably the only one who wanted James out of the house more than her.

 

“And what about the rest of you?” Lily asked the younger kids, trying to change the subject, “What do you think of _Mistah Potter_?” She said the last words in her most posh accent, the one she knew made the little ones laugh every time; she was not disappointed.

 

The twins shrugged in unison, as they did everything. Honestly, sometimes it creeped her out a little, but she tried to get past her _Shining_ -based twin prejudice. “He’s kind of funny,” Louisa said, yawning a little.

 

“Yeah, he’ll be fun to mess with!” Lyall piped up with that mischievous grin of his.

 

“And he sure knows how to mess with _you_ , Lily,” came Tonks teasing voice, “Are you one of those people that Penelope was talking about, hiring him because he’s easy on the eyes?”

 

Eri scowled, while Lyall and Oliver shouted, “Gross!” at the same time.

 

“One more word, _Nymphadora_ , and I’m confiscating all of those illicit pranks that Uncle Siri brought you last time I was here,” Lily growled at her, “Yes, I know about those. I know _all_.”

 

Tonks transformed her nose into her signature pig snout and snorted at her in reply.

 

Lily simply pointed at her and raised her eyebrows in warning before turning her attention to her youngest two. “And what does the little man and Princess Suze have to say?”

 

“Well _I_ like him,” Susan said in her sweet voice, “Can we keep him, _maman_?”

 

Lily felt herself wilt. It was like this every time with Susan; she was too sweet for her own good and just couldn’t help but love every person that crossed her path. “Oh sweetie,” Lily said softly, petting her soft blonde curls that made her look like a perfect little doll, “You know why they can’t stay. We can’t let them figure out our secret. You know I would do anything to protect all of you, but some days it’s harder than others. We have to make sacrifices.” She gave Susan a small smile. “We can’t keep him, but we don’t need him, yeah? All we need are the crazies in this room with us.” Lily turned to her youngest then, asking him, “What about you, Oliver? You’ve sure been quiet.”

 

“I’m sleepy,” he pouted, burrowing into her shoulder, “Could you tell us a story now?”

 

Lily smiled wide; this was her favorite part of their nightly ritual. When she had first taken in Eri he had terrible nightmares every night, the kind where he woke up screaming and shaking. She did her best to soothe him, rubbing his back and petting his hair, even singing sometimes, but nothing seemed to work. That is, until she started telling him stories. He loved fairytales, loved hearing about a knight in shining armor who slayed the dragon, defeated the beast. That’s what she always called him too, her knight in shining armor.

 

It had morphed into something else over time, though. As she took in more and more kids, she realized that as much as she saw them as her own, she didn’t want them to forget the families that had loved them, had died for them. So, she had squeezed Minerva for information on all their families, writing it down so she could always remember it, so she could share with her children as many details about their families as she could.

 

This was also the one time during the day when she lifted her no-magic rule; they all loved to hear Lily’s stories about her time in school, about the magical creatures she had met and the spells she had created.

 

On the first night of a new nanny, though, they all felt a little sentimental, so Lily was unsurprised when Oliver said, “I wanna hear about Daddy winning the Quidditch Cup!”

 

Penelope poked Lily in the side sheepishly. “And could you tell me about how my parents met again?” she asked. Lily knew it was getting close to their death anniversary, and Penny always got a little watery around that date, despite the tough act she liked to put on.

 

Lily sneaked a look at Eri; she always checked on him when the families were brought up, because she didn’t have any happy stories about his family to tell. He caught her trying to spy on him, and gave her a shrug to let her know he was fine. “How about we end on ‘Rapunzel’?” he suggested, tickling Louisa in the side so that she squealed. Lily couldn’t help but smile because she knew as well as Eri that the story was Louisa’s favorite. She felt her heart squeeze; Merlin, but he was a good brother.

 

“Okay, kids, settle in,” Lily began as she had a thousand times before, “We’ll start with Oliver’s request. So, as you know, your father went to Hogwarts when he turned eleven. Well, he was sorted into Gryffindor House, home of the brave…”

  

* * *

 

 

“Siriussssss,” James whined into his mirror, the face of his best friend looking back, “Sirius pick up, I’m bored as fuck!”

 

James was lying on his bed, having helped the little ones get to bed after supper and gotten an unimpressed snort when he told the older ones to stay in their rooms after curfew. Knowing he hadn’t gone to bed before midnight since third year, James tried to burn some time exploring his new home, or at least the one wing of the home he was actually allowed to view.

 

Honestly, it was all a lot more interesting that he had expected it to be. The library was massive, yet somehow he recognized only a handful of titles in the stacks. Plenty of reading to keep him entertained, then. And then there was the music room. Salazar’s balls, that shit was impressive. Grand piano, violins galore, a cello, and even a fucking harp. Did all the kids really know how to play these?

 

James was caught between being impressed and feeling sorry for those poor kids. Sure, they were probably all child prodigies if their strict study schedule was anything to judge by, and beyond just school subjects he could tell by the sharpness in their eyes that they were clever as fuck. But what was it worth if they were trapped inside of a castle their whole lives?

 

He was at least comforted by the fact that they, unlike him, had the company of their siblings to stave the loneliness away.

 

After exploring every inch of his new wing, James returned to his bedroom only to glance at the great grandfather clock standing in the corner and groan; he had only been gone for twenty minutes. _Eight freaking twenty_. This was usually when he was just leaving his flat, not going to bed! He was going to go mad, locked up every night like this.

 

_Three months, three months, three months._

 

Which was how he found himself nagging at his best friend on their set of two-way mirrors that they had acquired back in school so they could keep each other company during their many detentions (which their teachers had wisely learned to have them serve separately by third year).

 

“ _Finally_ ,” James drawled when he saw the stupid pretty-boy looks of Sirius appear in his mirror, “Where in the world have you been? I’ve been calling for five whole minutes!”

 

“Merlin, you’ve gotten needy in the past – what has it been, twelve hours? – since I last saw you,” Sirius chuckled through the mirror, “ _Some_ of us still have lives, you know. How has exile been treating you?”

 

“It’s not exile,” James grumbled grumpily, “It’s just an, erm, _alternative_ mission. Yeah, total community service project, that’s it!” He felt pretty proud of the positive spin he was putting on this whole thing despite the fact that McGonnagal has totally set him up.

 

“Bullshit,” Sirius replied amiably, “So are you finally going to tell me what this super-secret mission is that has you undercover for three months?”

 

James bit the inside of his cheek. He hadn’t told any of the lads yet what his new post was, partially because he was still in denial about the whole thing when he left, and partially because he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be telling anyone about the job. McGonnagal had told him that all of this was to be very discrete, but this was Sirius, right? They knew when the other took a shit (and congratulated the other on their fibrous diet), it felt weird keeping a secret from him.

 

He let out a heavy breath. “Okay,” James said, “But just know if you ever tell anyone honor demands that I commit a murder-suicide.”

 

“Why murder-suicide?”

 

“Because of course I would have to murder you, but that doesn’t mean I could live without you,” James said in a saccharine voice.

 

“Aw, bro,” Sirius replied, pretending to wipe away a tear, “You _do_ care!”

 

“I’m not kidding, though,” James continued (effortlessly avoiding the word ‘serious’ as he had for the past decade), “This is supposed to be top secret, completely underwraps, yeah?”

 

“Are you sure you can tell me, then?” Sirius asked, posture straightening as full Order-mode came out.

 

“Honestly, if I don’t have someone to vent to I won’t last the three months, so I think for my own sanity I _need_ to tell you,” James admitted in a huff.

 

“That bad?”

 

“You have _no_ idea,” James began, ready to play it up as dramatically as possible in order to garner the most sympathy points, “McGonnagal is a sneaky little shrew, let me tell you. Tutor-slash-guard, that’s what she told me I was supposed to be. But then I show up to this castle place – which is totally falling apart, by the way, might as well be sleeping outside for as many drafts as I have in my room – and they’re all calling me _nanny_. I’m a freaking soldier, a trained Auror for Merlin’s sake, not some babysitter!” He let out a breath, not realizing how fast he had been talking. “And get this. It’s seven kids. _Seven!_ Who even has that many kids?! It should be illegal. I’m telling you, the entire family is a menace to society-”

 

“Wait, did you say seven kids?” Sirius interrupted him, his eyes narrowing in sharp interest.

 

“Yeah, seven kids,” James confirmed, “And they’ve been through _twelve freaking nannies_ already. I’m half expecting them to come into the room and murder me in my sleep-”

 

Sirius interrupted him again, this disturbing grin creeping up on his face. “And tell me James, what about their owner?” he asked, “Or parent, I don’t know, whatever. What is _she_ like?”

 

“Oh, _she’s_ the worst part,” James grumbled, “Complete dragon lady, super strict and cold as ice. And she used a fucking _whistle_ to call the kids, talk about hardass-”

 

For the third time James was interrupted as Sirius broke out into hysterical laughter. “Oh no,” he gasped in between gales of laughter, “This. _This_. This is the best fucking thing I’ve heard all week; no, scratch that, all bloody year. I don’t know what my previous lives did to deserve this moment but bless the little bastards.” He continued to laugh, wiping tears from his eyes.

 

James was sure his friend had gone mad. “Am I missing something?” he asked grumpily, “Because I really don’t get why you’re laughing, it’s really not funny. I’m suffering here, Padfoot!”

 

“Oh, I’m _sure_ you’ll suffer terribly,” Sirius replied with a roll of his eyes, “I have to go now, mate, I have to owl someone right now. Oh man, she’s gonna flip.” He let out a few more chuckles before the mirror went blank.

 

“Well _bye_ ,” James muttered at the mirror, “Prick.” He glanced at the clock again. Not even ten minutes had gone by.

 

“That’s it, this is bullshit,” James said to himself as he stood up abruptly, walking over to his trunk and pulling out a silky cloak. Wrapping it around himself, he suddenly disappeared from sight. Ensconced in his Invisibility Cloak, he stormed to of his bedroom, making his way for the East Wing. “No one locks up James Potter!”

 

* * *

 

James thought that, even though he was technically breaking the biggest rule the Mademoiselle had laid out for him, he still had a duty as a tutor ( _tutor, tutor, not nanny)_ to check in on the kids before he set off on any real adventures. He was really trying to give this mission his best try, after all.

 

Which was why he had his wand out and ready when he entered the hallway all of the kids’ rooms shared and heard an unfamiliar voice. Female, soft and lilting with the slightest curve of a French accent, almost unnoticeable, the kind of voice that felt like the first flower bloom at the end of a cold winter. But James was still guarded because he had learned that the most lethal of poisons could be wrapped in the prettiest packages.

 

His entire body relaxed, though, when he peeked around the edge of the doorway where the woman’s voice was coming from and took in the picture-perfect view. All seven children were piled into one queen-sized bed. curled around and draped on top of each other like a litter of puppies. They nudged each other for space and kicked at each other when they were annoyed, but not a single one of their attentions wavered for even a moment from the woman sitting at the head of the bed.

 

James had never believed in love at sight.

 

Until that very exact moment.

 

She was a vision, something out of a pastural painting where people seemed to survive on sunlight and happiness alone. She had warm crimson hair in rolling curls, draping down her shoulders to tickle her ribs, and the most entrancingly green eyes, almost too vibrant to be natural, like she had been built by dollmakers. But it was her smile, _Merlin that smile_ , that had James’s stomach doing barrel rolls.

 

She was looking out at all the children, tapping noses and ruffling hair, never ceasing that smile that was filled with such an overwhelming, almost reverent, adoration that James felt himself unconsciously smiling back, even though he was still hidden under the Cloak. It was like every atom of her being was built completely out of love, the way she shone with it.

 

And James felt himself sitting down, leaning against the doorframe, as if his entire body had been compelled to stay in her presence, willing to do anything just to be caught in her light.

 

“Okay, my darlings, last story of the night,” the girl, who really was more of a woman, looking to be about James’s age, said, “Settle in and get comfortable as at least half of you will fall asleep here anyways.” Her grin was playful, telling a joke that she had obviously shared with them a hundred times before. “Now, the great romantic of the house, Eri, requested ‘Rapunzel’ for us,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at the eleven-year-old, who stuck out his tongue in reply, “So let’s get it started, yeah?” She snuggled into her own pillow, readjusted Oliver on her lap before she began in that same entrancing, melodic voice, “Once upon a time there lived a man and a woman who always wished for a child but could not have one…”

 

James didn’t know how long he sat in that doorway, completely absorbed in the bizarre story, taken in by the girl’s voice like a siren call. Merlin, she could read his old _History of Magic_ textbooks out loud and he would probably sit there and listen like she was telling him the secret to immortality. She was a great storyteller, using different voices that made the little ones giggle (and even some of the older ones too, though they tried to hide it). She laughed her way through the parts that she thought was funny, and her voice got oddly choked in a way that squeezed James’s own heart when she came to a sad part.

 

One by one the children’s eyes grew heavy, yawns increasing until they were all in a deep sleep. Still the girl continued on in her story, almost telling it to herself now, until she came to the end.

 

“Rapunzel fell into the prince’s arms and wept. When two of her tears fell on his eyes, the Prince could see again. He led her to his kingdom where he was joyfully received.” She was speaking in a hushed tone now, trying not to wake the children, smile still on her face but a strange melancholy about it as she finished with, “And they lived happily ever after.”

 

James didn’t realize she was crying until her heard a faint sniffle and saw her rubbing at her eyes, like she was angry at the tears that had suddenly appeared. She stroked the hair of the children nearest to her, that same sad smile on her lips.

 

“Oh my loves,” she whispered to them, “What am I going to do with all of you?”

 

And then it happened, the eighth wonder of the world. The girl opened her mouth and began to sing.

 

_“Edelweiss, edelweiss_

_Every morning you greet me_

_Small and white_

_Clean and bright_

_You look happy to meet me_ ”

 

If he had thought her storytelling voice was lovely, nothing could have prepared James for the way that she sang. It was every smile, every tear, every emotion hidden behind those vibrant yet world-weary eyes dancing through the air in a slow waltz.

 

“ _Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow_

_Bloom and grow forever_

_Edelweiss, edelweiss_

_Bless my homeland forever_ ”

 

Her voice cracked on that last line, and she was wiping at tears again, singing the song over the heads of the children as if it were a prayer, though for what he did not know.

 

And suddenly he was struck with the realization that he was intruding on a moment so intimate that he felt the need to avert his eyes. Even though he yearned to know who she was, to know her name, to know _her_ , he knew that he could never let her know that he had seen her in this moment of vulnerability. He quietly drew himself to his feet and tiptoed back to his rooms.

 

James barely slept a wink that night, the soft melody of the girl’s voice playing in his head.   


	3. My Favorite Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant this to be a longer chapter, but it ended coming to a natural closure so here it is, a little shorter than expected but I still adore it. Thank you all for your incredible support of this story, it is an absolute joy to write and I am so happy to share it with you! The story has also snowballed a bit, and I am not entirely sure how long it will be, but I know the entire plot so don't worry that it will become a messy, overwritten multichap! Anyways, enjoy, and thank you for all of your reviews!

3\. My Favorite Things

 

 

“I don’t understand this problem.”

 

“None of this makes any bloody sense!”

 

“Did I get it right, Mister Potter? Did I?”

 

“Mister Potter?”

 

“ _James!_ ”

 

That last one was enough to jolt James out of his stupor, his eyes having glossed over while the children independently worked on math problems from the lessons he had stumbled through earlier in the morning. The younger children’s lessons were easy enough, James had had tutors in the basics of math and language arts up until he went to Hogwarts; however, he had nearly broken out in hives when looking at the lesson plan for Tonks. Since when did math have letters in it? What was the point of that? He had tried to hide how much he was sweating over it all, but he could tell by the covertly exchanged looks that the kids were catching on. And he dreaded how they would exploit that weakness to their advantage. There was no doubt in his mind that they would; after all, that’s what he would do in their place.

 

And he was starting to realize that they were more similar to him than he would care to admit. He had half a mind to owl Professor McGonnagal and apologize for all the shit he had put her through. Maybe that was the whole point of this position as tutor? McGonnagal’s chance to exact revenge.

 

Karma was a bitch.

 

“Er, oh yes Louisa, that looks about right,” James replied, looking over the girl’s worksheet, “And Eri, no cursing in front of the littles, please. How about you show me what you’re stuck on? While I’m doing that, Penelope, could you practice counting with Oliver? I found a bag of toy dinosaurs in one of the cabinets that I thought you could use. Tonks, Lyall, Susan, keep up the good work, I’ll check back in ten.” He forced himself to take a calming breath; he could do this. Juggling seven kids’ education was exhausting, and it wasn’t even lunch time yet. Remembering that, he checked his watch and sighed internally. Still an hour away.

 

“Let’s move to this table over here,” James suggested to Eri, helping him gather up his textbook and supplies and walking to a small table on the other side of the study, “It always helped me to change location when I got frustrated in school. Plus, it’s probably easier to concentrate without Susan pulling on your hair every five minutes and Tonks constantly changing her hair color.” He aimed a smile at the surly boy, but Eri just glowered back. _Bloody hell, the kid really hates me_ , James thought, his heart sinking a bit. He understood wanting to mess with him, sure, James would have done the same thing to a ‘nanny’ in his shoes, but he was completely confused about the animosity Eri was showing. Hell, they hadn’t even spent twenty-four hours together, it usually took at least a week before people started having homicidal thoughts about him.

 

“I thought we kids were supposed to be the ones zoning out in class,” Eri bit out, “Not the tutor. Not very good at your job are you?”

 

“Sorry about that,” James replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, “I didn’t sleep well last night. But that’s a bit harsh, yeah? I told you yesterday, I’ve never really done this sort of thing before. I mean, I was top of my class at Hogwarts and Head Boy so I helped other students out a bit, but it’s not like we exactly covered all this.” He gestured helplessly at all the math textbooks.

 

Eri’s eyebrows raised in surprise at James’s comment about his time at Hogwarts, but he tried to hide it quickly. “If you’re not qualified for this job then why are you even here?” he asked, a bit of a sneer on his lips.

 

James looked him right in the eyes, letting him know he meant business. “The person I respect most in the world asked me to come here,” he said seriously, “And I would die rather than let her down, so I will stay here until my job is done. I’m not going anywhere, yeah?”

 

Eri looked a little bit impressed, but then adopted a smirk, saying, “We’ll see about that.”

 

They settled into an awkward silence as Eri shuffled his papers around, trying to find the problems he was having trouble. James felt himself getting itchy in the silence because the entire morning a question had been bouncing around in the back of his mind, and if he didn’t bring it up soon, he might go insane. Because try as he might, James could not put the crimson-haired girl he had seen last night out of his mind. He just _had_ to know who she was, had to find her. However, he didn’t want to let the kids know he’d been spying on them last night. He knew that would only mean hell to pay with Mademoiselle Biche.

 

“Hey, um, Eri?” James began, trying to keep a casual tone, “Are Tinker and Netty the only ones that work here? There’s not some maid or, I don’t know, maybe a cousin who hangs around the Tower?”

 

The speed with which Eri’s head shot up was startling. “ _No_ ,” he said sharply with a glare, “It’s just the elves, _maman_ , and us kids. Why do you ask?”

 

“Just wondering,” James replied, trying to play it off like no big deal. Eri’s answer was strange though. During his time in the Order, and during Auror Training, of course, he had become especially skilled at spotting lies. For some reason, though, he couldn’t figure out whether Eri was telling the truth or not. It didn’t feel like a lie, but it didn’t feel like the whole truth either.

 

Curious.

 

“But if you _were_ to run into anyone else,” Eri suddenly added, his eyes on his textbook and his voice coming off vague but almost with an edge of nervousness, “Just turn the other way.”

 

“I wouldn’t make a very good guard if I just turned away from intruders,” James tried to joke, while his brain still tried to sort out what all of this meant.

 

Eri looked up, his eyes fierce and serious. “Just turn the other way, Potter,” he repeated firmly.

 

“It’s James,” was his only reply, and the two of them seemed to come to a mutual agreement that the discussion was done. “So these fractions,” James began, redirecting the conversation, “Hate the buggers. Let’s see what the problem is yeah?”

 

Eri nodded, just once, and they got to work.

 

* * *

 

 

“At last!” James shouted as the alarm on his wristwatch began to sound, “ _Freedom!”_ He pushed back from the table, standing up to stretch his back that was sore from crouching over a book for a good three hours. “Lunchtime, little monsters! Let’s go!”

 

The little ones all giggled at his dramatics, more than happy to follow him down to the kitchens.

 

Glancing out the window, James noticed it was one of those perfect February days, sunny but with glittering frost covering the vast castle grounds.

 

“Hey,” he said to the kids, “What do you say to eating outside today? We can make a picnic of it, get out of the Tower for a bit, get some fresh air.”

 

“I like the idea of it,” Tonks replied, carrying Susan on a piggyback ride down the stairs, “But you do remember we’re in Scotland, right? It may look like all sunshine and roses but it’s going to be cold as-”

 

“Ice,” James interrupted her quickly, “Cold as ice is what you meant to say, right Tonks?” She rolled her eyes at him, and he narrowed his back. “Well, that’s an easy fix, right? I’ll just cast a warming spell, easy as pie.” He looked around at them excitedly, expecting an enthusiastic response. Instead he was faced with seven uneasy, suspicious faces.  

 

“Spells are what wizards cast,” Lyall told him, looking at him like he had gone batty.

 

“Yes, well, I’m a wizard,” James told her, confused. He understood that he wasn’t supposed to instruct the kids in magic yet, but they knew about magic, right? Hadn’t they seen Mademoiselle Biche casting household spells? Merlin, they lived with two house elves!

 

“Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” Louisa asked, quoting her favorite movie _The Wizard of Oz_. However, there was an uneasiness behind her eyes, like she was nervous about what his answer would be.

 

“Don’t be stupid, Lousia,” Penelope chided her confidently, “Witches and wizards aren’t real, they’re just in _maman’s_ stories.”

 

“What are you talking about?” James asked, completely at a loss about what they were saying. Penelope was eleven, for Merlin’s sake, the age where every other magical child in Great Britain was heading to Hogwarts. How did _she_ not know?

 

And it made him angry. Angry because that’s what this whole war was about for him, how wrong it was for blood purists to try and rob Muggleborns of their magical heritage, their _birthright_. How could a mother keep such a secret from her children? And why in the world would she?

 

So angry was he that he completely ignored the coughs Tonks was trying to use to distract him, and the fierce glare from Eri. “Of course magic is real, kiddos,” James told them with a forced cheery grin, pulling out his wand from the robes he still hadn’t replaced, “And I’ll prove to you, see?”

 

With a few choice words, James flicked his wand and caused the books surrounded them to begin to dance in the air.

 

There were shrieks of excitement and gasps of disbelief as their textbooks did barrel rolls and loop-de-loops in the air, the youngest children chasing after them with squeals of delight while the older ones stayed rooted in place.

 

“It’s – it’s real?” Penelope whispered quietly, a weight in her voice that James didn’t understand, “Magic? All of _maman’s_ stories? They were _real?_ ” Her eyes were filled with tears, and she seemed vulnerable in a way that James couldn’t quite understand.

 

“Of course it’s real,” he told her, stepping closer so he could elbow her, “You’re a Hogwarts legacy, didn’t you know?”

 

“Hogwarts?” she whispered again, this time reverently, “You mean I can do this too, someday?”

 

James nodded at her with a grin. “Magic is in your blood, little one,” he said, holding out his wand, “Someday you’ll go to Ollivander’s and get one of these for yourself and-”

 

Penelope suddenly flinched away from the wand, at the same moment that Eri burst between them, grabbing his sister’s elbow. “Magic in your blood means _nothing_ ,” Eri spat at him, “Just leave her alone, okay?” The two siblings whispered back and forth, Eri putting a protective arm around Penelope as she seemed to wilt, her face pale.

 

Tonks came up next to him, a tired look on her face that was much to world-wearied for her age. “You should go ahead and take the little ones outside,” she told him, “The snow, the magic, they’ll love it. They – they need to see it, be exposed to it. Learn you’re a good witch, yeah?” She grinned at him, even though he didn’t totally get the joke. “I’ll talk to Penelope and Eri. There’s a, well, there’s a history there. But I’ll take care of it.” She gave him a significant look before ushering her two siblings out of the room, leaving James alone with the youngest four.

 

At first James was at a loss, feeling like he needed to go after the three siblings, to try and help. But the little ones were still looking at the books flying around the study with such a look of awe that he decided he couldn’t ruin the moment. Instead, he grinned at them, saying, “If you think _this_ is cool, just wait until you see what I can do with a snowball!”

 

They spent the rest of the afternoon captured in that incandescent spell of youth. Shouts of laughter as James tackled Oliver and tickled him silly in a snowbank, Lyall and Louisa teaming up on him to shove snow down the back of his robes, all of them dodging a barrage of enchanted snowballs like a magical obstacle course, it was one of those moments that only seemed possible in a cheesy family sitcom. It was a kind of happiness that had eluded James for so long.

 

Tonks came out later, trailed by Eri and Penelope. Penny had seemed to have snapped back into her fiery temperament, and took control of the snowball fight with the discipline of a general (much to James’s despair). Eri played with his siblings with a brotherly joy and devotion, all of his features softening as he allowed himself to be dog-piled on, then tickling them all in swift vengeance. There was a protectiveness in his shoulders even as he played and, even though James thought he was an angst-ridden menace, he couldn’t help but admire the boy.

 

And Tonks, well, with what was obviously a metamorphogus talent, was the star of the show, making all of them laugh until their bellies ached. However, James couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes tracked the movements of his wand, whispering an echo of the spells he cast throughout the afternoon. And he wondered what would come of it.  

 

* * *

 

 

James dropped his forehead to the table in front of him and let out a great groan. It was nearing midnight, but James still felt nowhere near prepared for the lessons he was supposed to teach the next day. His eyelids were growing heavy, yawns breaking through his chest every few minutes. It had been a tiring day all around, and it was all catching up with him now; it didn’t help that it had just started to storm, and the soft pattering of the rain against the windows was slowly lulling him to sleep.

 

It had been a mad scramble that afternoon, trying to get the kids cleaned up in time for dinner with the Mademoiselle after their grand snowball war. However, James shouldn’t have even bothered; Mademoiselle Biche looked so tired when she arrived for supper that he wasn’t sure she would have even noticed if the children were wearing potato sacks. It had been a quiet dinner, all of the children looking concernedly at their _maman_. It wasn’t until the pudding was placed on the table by a surly Tinker that she made the announcement.

 

“I will be leaving tomorrow morning for a business trip,” she told them, looking weary and resigned. And she had reason to be exhausted by the announcement; the uproar amongst the children at her words made James’s ears ring. “It’s been too long since we last had a proper nanny that I could leave you with,” she spoke over them with a sigh, “The company needs me, and you know how much I owe them. I will be sure to give Aunt Minnie all of your love, okay darlings?”

 

They had all nodded, but the way they trailed up the stairs with downcast looks and slumped shoulders spoke volumes.

 

It had surprised James, actually, the obvious show of devotion in their protests. Merlin, Mademoiselle Biche was the worst kind of dragon lady, and a complete slave-driver to boot. If he was them, he would be rejoicing that she wouldn’t be looking over their shoulders, planning out every bloody second out their day. He sure was glad to have more room to breathe with her gone.

 

Obviously he was still feeling the pressure, though, because he had been studying for the past four bloody hours. Merlin, he hadn’t even studied this much in Hogwarts!

 

James secretly admitted to himself that maybe it wasn’t the ever-looming shadow of Mademoiselle Biche that had inspired his newfound work ethic. No, it was the kids, who in under forty-eight hours had somehow gotten under his skin. Maybe it was the way they had all laughed together playing in the snow (and Merlin knew it had been ages since he’d laughed like that), or maybe it was the valiant – albeit misguided – attempt to prank him by coating all of the doorknobs in his wing of the house in Vaseline. Whatever it was, there was this feeling in his gut that had kept him from falling asleep, this feeling that even if he was only here for three months he didn’t want to cock this up. He didn’t want to let them down.

 

So here James was, fighting yawns as he picked up the next book – this one a play by a guy named Shakespeare that he was going to start reading with Tonks tomorrow – and readjusted his glasses, getting back to work. Thankfully he had been pleasantly surprised the more he read that all of the subjects were actually pretty interesting. Merlin, the things Muggles had come up with to compensate for not having magic! And their understanding of the universe with all of their science, it was far more interesting than that mystical bollocks he had learned about in Divination and Astronomy. They’d sent a man to the moon! The fucking moon! It was absolutely mind-blowing, and James was actually getting a bit brassed off that they hadn’t learned any of this at Hogwarts. For the first time in his life, James felt like his life was lacking.

 

Suddenly a loud crash sounded from down the hallway, snapping James from his internal rant. “What the-” he cursed, jumping out of his seat and drawing his wand as he stalked towards the door. Easing it open, he immediately relaxed when he saw who the ‘intruder’ trying to sneak down the hallway was.

 

“Have a run-in with a Thunderbird, did we?” James asked a drenched and soiled Tonks, who froze in the hallway upon being spotted, “Doesn’t look like you came out a winner, too. Shame.” He shook his head mockingly.

 

“Well, you see,” Tonks began to say, face flushing under a layer of soot, “I have a really good reason for all of this, a really excellent reason, right?”

 

“I would really, _really_ like to hear the reason why you just came out of my bedroom looking like _that_.”

 

“How did you know I came out of _your_ room?” she asked, startled, looking at him suspiciously, “Are you a Seer or something? I’ve read about them, but never met one.”

 

James laughed. “No, I’m not a Seer. You just happened to leave a trail of disaster leading back to my room. Come into the library and we can clean you up, before Mademoiselle Biche comes this way. You made enough noise to wake up the whole castle, and if the dragon finds you out of bed it’ll be both our heads.” He ushered her into the library, and she followed with drooping shoulders. As he flicked his wand to clean up the mess in the hallway, James asked, “Really, how in the world have you gotten away with so many pranks when you have the grace of a giant?”

 

An annoyed look crossed Tonks’s face. “I’m more of the brains behind the operations,” she grumbled, “The rest of the lot stopped letting me actually go on missions ages ago. We send the little ones, mostly Lyall and Louisa, to do our dirty work. I swear they’re half imp, absolute devils, and they can fit just about anywhere.”

 

He nodded thoughtfully. _Good to know_ , he thought. “I would have thought Penelope would be behind a lot of the operations,” James replied as he cast a quick _Scourgify_ on the drenched witch, “Honestly, she terrifies me.”

 

Tonks grimaced in return. “We never let her come up with the plans,” she said seriously, “Otherwise we’d all have ended up in Azkaban years ago. She’s right scary, that one.”

 

“Good to know that I won’t be getting murdered in my sleep anytime soon, then. Thanks for looking out,” he chuckled, “Anyways, why was it you were coming out of my room? Not the sneakiest route, is it? What if I was in there?”

 

“I saw the light on in the library so I figured you were in here studying,” Tonks shrugged, “Honestly, you need it. The lessons today were just ghastly.” James made a face at her and she laughed. “And the nanny’s room has this wonderful trellis right beneath the window that makes it the most accessible room on the second floor. Come in handy many a time.” She smiled proudly.

 

“Flawless plan,” James deadpanned, before continuing, “Shall we get down to it then?” He gestured for her to take a seat at the table he had been studying at, and for a second it looked like she was going to make a run for it. But he gave her a hard look, trying to channel his mother’s ‘ _you’re in deep shit_ ’ look the best he could. “So, Tonks, why were you running around outside in the first place?”

 

She crossed her arms and looked at him challengingly, and he stared right back like he was daring her to bullshit him. Finally, she sighed and caved. “I was out in the greenhouse,” she began, “Practicing. Snuck in right after dinner. And then it started to rain and I got all caught up in it, and here I am.”

 

“Practicing what?” James prompted.

 

Another sigh. “I was trying to practice the spell you did earlier today,” she muttered begrudgingly, “The warming spell.”

 

James just gave her a confused look. “Why were you practicing in the greenhouse?” he asked, “And alone? Practicing a new spell by yourself is dangerous, Tonks, that’s not something to fuck around with.” He covered his mouth with his hand when he realized he had cursed in front of the kid, and she smirked back at him.

 

But her face grew a bit glum as she replied, “Well, you know what it’s like around here. The kids, we’re not supposed to expose them to magic, so it’s not like I can flounce up and down the hallway with my wand in my hand. And Mademoiselle, I’ve asked her to teach me before, and she does when she can, but you saw her at dinner. She can barely get through the day sometimes, let alone stay up all night teaching me stuff I should be learning at school.”

 

“Then why didn’t you ask me? That’s what I’m here for, right?” James asked, puzzled.

 

“You’d do that?” Tonks replied suspiciously, like she didn’t quite trust him, “Even past curfew?”

 

James shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.” He looked at her more seriously. “Tonks, you’re a witch and you deserve to be treated like one. I want you to come to me with any magical questions you have, any of you kids. Messing around with magic by yourself, that’s only going to lead to a world of pain. I just need you to trust me, okay?” She seemed to search his face for a moment, before finally nodding. “Merlin,” James continued, “What were your tutors before teaching you? You’re fifteen for Godric’s sake, you should know a warming spell by now.”

 

Tonks shrugged. “Most of them were squibs or Muggles,” she told him, “And the ones who were witches, well, they kind of shied away from magic with us. It’s complicated.”

 

“Why is that?” James asked, “What’s the whole secret behind the ‘no magic’ thing? I don’t get it-”

 

He was cut off when a sharp bolt of lightning flashed outside the window, followed by a thunderous _boom_. The lights in the room, run by electricity James had learned earlier, shuttered and then plunged them into darkness.

 

“What the hell happened?” James asked through the darkness, fumbling his way to the door to toggle the electricity switch.

 

“Must have been the storm,” Tonks replied from somewhere within the pitch-black room, “Sometimes it knocks out the electricity.”

 

“Damn unreliable, this Muggle stuff,” James cursed as he stubbed his toe against an errant chair while searching the desk he had been studying at for his wand, “Guess we’ll start with our first lesson, Tonks. Wand out!” He heard a rustling of clothing and assumed she had hers out because he continued. “Okay, just hold it in a regular upright position, keep is casual and keep a somewhat loose grip, this is a charm, not a duel. Now repeat after me: _lumos_.” The tip of James’s wand lit up, the light spreading out in about a three-foot radius, allowing him to see at least a bit of the room.

 

However, when Tonks repeated the words, the tip of her wand just sputtered light a little bit before going out.

 

“Hmm, I guess I’m not much of a teacher, am I?” James mused, “There’s more to magic than just wand moving and a few special words. It’s all about _intent_ , visualizing what’s happening and pushing that intrinsic magical energy inside of you out into the world. For _Lumos_ , I always imagine this little ball of light starting in my chest and then follow it as it goes all the way through my wand and explodes from there. Does that make sense?” In the dim light he saw her nod. “Give it a go then!”

 

With confidence and purpose gathered in her voice, Tonks spoke. “ _Lumos_.”

 

“Well done!” James grinned at her as the tip of her wand began to glow with that blinding white light. “Now, next step may be a bit more difficult for you, but I always find it more convenient than trying to use my wand as a torch. Here, watch closely and listen up: _lumos sphera!_ ”

 

From the tip of James’s wand, a series of orbs of lights emerged and scattered around him and Tonks, multicolored and floating in the air as if gravity were a myth.

 

“Much better,” James said, satisfied, “Frees the wand up for other spells, right? I’ve been meaning to ask, though, where’d you get your wand, Tonks? If you haven’t been school supply shopping in Diagon Alley and all that.”

 

“It was my father’s wand,” she replied quietly, “The only thing I have left of him.”

 

James opened his mouth to say, well, _something_ , he was sure he would find the sort of words to comfort a child who’d lost a parent so young. He was sure the words were in his brain somewhere. He was interrupted, however, when another thunderous _bang_ shook the tower.

 

There was a pattering of feet down the hallway and suddenly a slight figure stood in the doorway. Even with just a shadowy outline, James could tell that the little Oliver was trembling.

 

And James immediately felt guilt. _Merlin, the boy was only five, of course he’s afraid of the dark, he should have checked on the little ones sooner…_

 

He tucked all of these thoughts away for the moment, though, to be reexamined during one of his “how to not be a shit tutor/caretaker” pep talks he’d been giving himself regularly, and instead focused all of his attention on the little boy.

 

“There’s the man of the house!” James called out to him, ushering him inside the room. There was another crack of thunder, and Oliver rushed over, latching himself onto James’s leg. Chuckling lightly, James lifted him onto his hip instead. “I’m so glad you found us, Oliver,” James told him very seriously, “You see, I was just telling Tonks about how afraid of the dark I am.” She was looking at him dubiously but James shot her a look and she began nodding furiously, playing along. “But now that you’re here, Ollie, I’m not scared at all. You must have some magic power for making people brave!”

 

“Oh yes, Ollie!” Tonks continued on with the game, “I’m terribly scared of the lightning myself. Could you come over here and give me a hug? That was I could get some of your magical bravery powers.”

 

Grinning now, Oliver ran over to give Tonks a big hug, before turning back so he could be picked up by James again. “There, you’ve cured us!” James grinned at the little boy, “And I would bet a million Galleons that you end up a Gryffindor, with those bravery powers of yours.” Oliver giggled into James’s shoulder, and he smiled in return.

 

Another crash came, and two figures shadowed the doorway.

 

“Ah, Lyall and Louisa! Just in time, we were about to play a game,” James said, ushering the frightened twins into the room, ruffling their hair to offer a bit of comfort without making it a big deal. He gestured to the ground before taking his own seat on the carpet, settling Oliver in his lap. Following his lead, Tonks sat on the ground, too, and soon the twins settled as well.

 

James summoned down one of the light orbs that had been dancing around their heads and let it hover lightly in his hands. Making it up as he went along, James said, “This is the time-honored game of Burning Ball. This magical ball of light-” He held it up for all the kids to see. “Looks perfectly harmless at first. But, if you hold on to it too long you might get _burned_.” He looked at them with wide eyes. “So you have to pass it fast, but if you miss who you are throwing to, it will float to the ceiling and you’ll lose points.”

 

“What points?” Lyall asked.

 

“We’ll all start with one hundred points,” James decided, “And whoever has kept the most points by the end of the game gets to two desserts at dinner tomorrow.” All the kids started chatting animatedly at that, and he grinned, pleased that he had been able to come up with a distraction for them. And no, the ball of light didn’t actually burn you if you held it too long; James had just learned long ago that everyone was more interested in a game with a little danger. “Let’s get started then, shall we?” he called, giving a light toss to Louisa.

 

About five giggly minutes into the game, a slumped Penelope walked into the room with a weepy Susan on her hip. “There you are,” she said tiredly, looking from him to Tonks, “She came in twenty minutes ago crying from the storm. Can you?” She gestured at them hopelessly, obviously completely at a loss with dealing with a crying kid, distinctly uncomfortable with the emotions and physical touch of it all.

 

“Here,” James said, gesturing them over, “Susan, love, will you come sit next to me? We’re playing a game of catch and I heard you’re the best at it, so I want you on my team.” The little girl sniffled into Penelope’s shoulder before shakily nodding her head and getting down from her sister’s arms to toddle towards him.

 

“There’s teams?” Lyall complained, “You didn’t tell us that!”

 

“New rule,” James replied smoothly, “Pick your partner.”

 

“Louisa!” Lyall shouted, at the same time that his twin shouted his name. Always in sync, that pair. It was getting a little creepy.

 

“Guess that means Ollie’s with me,” Tonks said, pulling the boy onto her lap now, “I’ve a huge sweet tooth so don’t let me down, yeah?”

 

“But now Penny doesn’t have a partner,” Susan noticed, finally becoming distracted from her fear of the storm, “That’s not fair.”

 

“Oh, Eri will be along any moment now once he realizes that it’s storming and no one’s come crying to his room. This is usually his job, isn’t it?” Penelope said, gesturing around at all of them, “Why’d you all come here, anyways?”

 

“Mister Potter has magic,” Oliver spoke up, “And he made all of these lights so no one would be afraid of the dark!”

 

“It was too scary in the dark to try to get to _maman’s_ room,” Louisa agreed.

 

“And like little bugs, you all made your way to the light,” Penny observed in the dry tone of hers. She really was too precocious for his comfort, James decided. “Ah, right on time,” she continued as Eri strode into the room, out of breath. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

 

Eri rolled his eyes at her, before pausing when he took in the scene in front of him. “What in the world are you all doing here?” he asked, “I looked all over the place for you, nearly gave me a heart attack! I almost had to go to _maman_.”

 

All of the children looked guilty for a moment at the thought of wakening their mother, before Lyall cheerfully interrupted with, “We’re playing Burning Ball, and you’re on Penelope’s team!”

  

* * *

 

“How are you not afraid of the storm, James?” Susan asked in a wobbly voice about fifteen minutes later. They were well into what had become quite a competitive game of catch, with points now being given for the most dramatic catches and throws. Style points, they were called, and they were completely based on James’s whims, which resulted in him being booed more than once.

 

He was coming to the conclusion that he might really like these kids.

  

In the light of the glowing orbs above them, though, James could still make out the tear tracks on Susan’s face from her earlier bouts of crying at the raging storm. He knew he had to give her a good answer, give her some courage. It was the Gryffindor thing to do, after all.

 

“I’m not really sure,” he replied thoughtfully, passing one of the orbs across the circle to Lyall, “I guess I know that there is more good than evil in the world. So I guess whenever I’m scared of something, I know that there are so many good things in the world to balance the scary parts out.” He grinned at them across the dimly lit room. “I think of my favorite things.”

 

“Like what?” he heard Louisa ask as she caught the ball that had been lobbed at her.

 

“Hmm,” James began, “Cats. Yes, definitely cats. Or more specifically kittens and their little toe beans. There is literally nothing cuter in the world than toes beans, and I will sue anyone who says otherwise.”

 

“Cats? Really?” Tonks asked with a smirk, “I would never take you for a cat person.”

 

“Well then, smarta – smarty pants,” he replied, “Tell me one of _your_ favorite things.”

 

“Easy,” she replied as she tossed the ball to Penelope, “Chocolate, every kind of chocolate out there. Especially the chocolate oranges that Li – er, Mademoiselle gets us for Christmas. Those are my absolute favorite.”

 

“Ooh, ooh, me next!” Lyall shouted, “I like _all_ the presents we get on Christmas!”

 

“And how pretty _maman_ wraps them, with all those sparkly ribbons,” Louisa agreed with a bright-eyed smile.

 

“My favorite thing was the pretty white dress with the blue ribbon I got to wear on my last birthday,” Susan added in her squeaky little voice. She looked to Eri, apparently the authority in the group, “Do you think she’ll let me wear it again on Tuesday?”

 

“Of course, love,” Eri smiled softly, kissing the top of her head, “I think my favorite thing is the snow, days like today when it’s all fluffy, like a wonderland from one of _maman’s_ stories.”

 

“My favorite thing is when these blasted winters finally melt into spring,” Penelope interjected sourly, before adding, “But really, I suppose mine is the crisp apple strudel Tinker makes, I dream of it sometimes.” The other children laughed at her uncharacteristically sheepish smile.

 

A streak of lightning flashed, and all of the children flinched at the following _boom_ of lightning.

 

“See? Talking about favorite things makes you feel better,” James said, trying to distract them again. He stood up, holding the ball of light, “Come on, let’s keep it going!” He tossed the ball to Lyall, shouting, “Quidditch!”

 

With that the game regressed into a flashing of the Burning Ball and shouts of laughter.

 

“Bunnies!”

 

“Ponies!”

 

“No school!”

 

“Birthday presents!”

 

“ _Any_ presents!”

 

Amongst the flurry activity, James hadn’t even noticed how loud the had gotten until the study door flew open with a _bang_.

 

“ _There_ you are!” Mademoiselle Biche huffed as they all froze in place, “I nearly had a heart attack when I came to check on you and found no one in their rooms!” She went from child to child, ruffling hair and cupping cheeks. “Are you all okay, my loves?” They all nodded, and then she noticed the way they were looking guiltily towards the glowing orbs floating above their heads.

 

This time it was the Mademoiselle’s turn to freeze. In an eerily calm voice, she said, “Tonks, Eri, take the others to their rooms. Tinker is working on the lights so they should be back on soon. I will check in on you on my back.” When no one made a move to leave, she barked, “ _Now!_ ”

 

They scurried out of the room, leaving James alone with the dragon. She rounded on him, speaking furiously, “What do you think you’re doing, doing magic in front of the children? In front of the little ones? Do you not remember the instructions I gave you earlier?”

 

“They were scared-” he protested.

 

“I don’t think I asked too much of you, did I? Not to use magic?” Her cheeks were flushed with anger, “Or are you too dense to even follow the simplest of rules?”

 

“That’s not fair-”

 

“You work for _me_ ,” Mademoiselle Biche shouted, “So do what I say!”

 

“But _why_?” James shouted back, “Why are you keeping them from their heritage? Why do you hide it from them? It’s criminal!”

 

The Mademoiselle quieted then, an unfathomable pain in her eyes that James could not even begin to understand. “There’s no use explaining,” she said quietly, “You’ll not be here long enough for it to matter.”

 

She turned away from him then, making her way to the door. Before she departed, she said over her shoulder, “I expect you to follow my orders while I am away, is that clear?” Without waiting for an answer, she swept out of the room.


End file.
